


Shiver

by Kuja



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Consent Issues, Dark, Deleted Scenes, Flashbacks, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Imprisonment, Magic, Mental Health Issues, Non-Consensual Body Modification
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-17 06:11:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16969185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuja/pseuds/Kuja
Summary: They never loved you.No one will ever love you.He couldn’t do this. Not here. Not when he had lost and regained so much. He had to leave, before Thor -‘Brother, are you in there?’Damn. Too late.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as just an exercise for me to practise writing again since I am far too rusty. It's planned out and will cover several time periods up to the beginning of Avengers: Infinity War.

_They never loved you.  
No one will ever love you._

_You are never good enough.  
You will always be a failure._

_Your body is a lie.  
Your life is a lie._

_You are a monster.  
You are monstrous by nature. _

_They will leave you.  
You will always be alone._

_This is it.  
This is the end._

_Enough._

_Enough._

_**ENOUGH.**_

 

~~~

 

This was a mistake. He should never have come.

It had been a split second impulse to reveal his presence to Thor. He had berated himself for his sentimentality many times since, as if it wasn’t already far too late to change anything. The joy on his brother’s face almost made it all worthwhile, but not a day later and the world is crumbling. Now a large part of him wished he had simply curled up in a dark corner and had them think him dead. 

It wouldn’t be the first time, after all.

Loki had first felt the twinge of restlessness on Sakaar, when he began to ingratiate himself with the Grandmaster. Then, as usual, he had perceived it as an opportunity, a motivation, a gift. Now his skin itched and tingled, his stomach held a thousand biting insects, and he couldn’t seem to keep his fingers from twisting upon themselves in endless frustration.

_They never loved you.  
No one will ever love you._

_They never loved you.  
No one will ever love you._

_They never loved you.  
No one will ever love y- _

__

__

_STOP IT!_

He threw himself to his feet in the cabin, pressing his hands against the cold metal wall and leaning his cheek into the sudden sensation. His breath came in barely contained gasps, teeth clenched around either a scream or the urge to vomit - it wasn’t always clear. Objects on nearby tables began to shake violently, and the air thickened and darkened, responding to pressure swiftly building behind his eyes. 

Holding in his latest breath with effort, he closed his eyes and pushed everything back, everything he was, until the only thing left was the pounding of his heart and the flickering pulses through his fingertips where they made contact with the wall. He made himself count them. Slowly - far too slowly - the vibrations faded.

He couldn’t do this. Not here. Not when he had lost and regained so much. He had to leave, before Thor - 

‘Brother, are you in there?’

Damn. Too late. 

_They never loved you.  
No one will ever love you._

A pause while he pushed himself wearily upright and checked his hands. They trembled, the fingertips white and dry.

‘Just a minute.’

He stumbled over to the mirror and summoned his template. A brief flicker of gold, and a familiar mask settled into place. 

The ideal. The expected. The lie.

Dark circles and hollow cheeks were smoothed away, and his appearance neatened. It even improved his posture, a literal illusion of confidence. This particular deception was second nature to him now, and required only minimal effort. His armour chafed him like restraints, but it would have to stay for now. He wasn’t in the right state of mind to alter it.

It was habit that led him to brush imaginary fluff from his sleeve as he opened the door, the phantoms covering his hands steadier than he had any right to be.

_They never loved you.  
No one will ever love you._

‘Yes?’

Had he managed to keep the tension from his voice? There was no way he was prepared for this conversation. He carefully schooled his features into a neutral expression, trusting the illusion to do the rest of the work for him. 

Thor looked worried, his posture tense. Never a good sign in a man with boundless self-confidence.

‘Brother, Heimdall tells me you have once again hidden yourself from his Sight.’

‘I was changing.’ Loki sighed, exasperated.

‘You are in the same clothes as earlier.’ Thor quirked a single eyebrow, but didn’t smile.

‘My _boots_.’ Loki spread his arms downwards, illustrating his feet. ‘I didn’t realise Heimdall wanted to watch.’

‘He was worried about you.’ Thor didn’t look convinced in the slightest. 

Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. 

‘Oh, please.’ Loki couldn’t keep the irritation from his voice. ‘He thinks I’m going to try to kill you.’ 

“Again?’

‘Just because I - Okay, look. All I wanted was some privacy for a few hours. Is that a problem?’

He tried leaning against the doorframe, arms folded; faux-casual. Thor, however, showed no signs of budging. 

‘I am also worried. Much has happened in these past days, and you don’t seem yourself.’

Loki tried, but he couldn’t help the bitter-tasting laugh that escaped his throat.

‘Oh Thor. How can you be so good at completely missing the point? I am not myself, nor have I ever been ‘myself’. I am what you think of me, and now I can’t be anything else!’

_They never loved you.  
No one will ever love you._

Thor frowned in puzzlement. ‘I’m not sure I understand you, brother. Are you well?’

Loki wasn’t sure if he understood himself, either.

‘Oh yes, everything is fine.’ He couldn’t control the words any more. They threatened to rise up with his thoughts and drown everything in their path. He tried one last time. Desperate.

‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m rather busy - ’ 

A huge hand gripped his shoulder before he could get back through the door.

‘Loki, what is it?’

_No one will ever love you._

The solid contact shattered any illusions Loki had hoped to maintain, not only upon his body but his mind. Before he was fully aware of having moved, he had Thor pressed up against the far wall and a knife grazing his brother’s throat.

‘Don’t touch me!’ The words were a hiss, the face contorted into a snarl.

Despite his shock, it took Thor only a second to reorient himself, and with a heave, he gripped the wrist holding the knife and threw Loki to the ground a few metres away.

He was panting, gasping and sick with fear. Landing in a deep crouch Loki wasn’t hurt but panicked, like an animal in a trap. He reached blindly, unthinking - and in an instant there were four crouching figures around Thor. 

Eight eyes. Eight knives. 

The lights around them flickered, then exploded as the ship’s alarm system began to wail. Thor held out his hands in surrender, looking between the copies for a sign of recognition. He met their eyes but all they shared was regret.

Too late. It was all too late.

‘I’m sorry.’ Barely a whisper amid the chaos; it wasn’t clear who had spoken. 

Thor reached out a hand, but Loki’s eyes darted around wildly and before Thor could take a step forward, space folded away in a glittering curtain, leaving him alone. Twin knives clattered to the floor amid shards of broken glass.

_They never loved you.  
No one will ever love you._

_I know._

_I **know.**_

_I’m sorry._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read and left a comment or kudos on the first chapter. I appreciate every single one.

_You are never good enough.  
You will always be a failure._

Despite the gentle summer sun rising over the rooftops of Asgard, Loki couldn’t help but feel a familiar chill of dread crawl down his spine as he approached the training grounds.

‘Ah, brother! It is a fine day for sparring.’ 

Thor’s enthusiasm for hitting things was unlimited, as usual. Despite the large group of warriors nursing an impressive variety of injuries around him, Loki’s brother still looked as fresh as the dawn.

‘Thor, I really don’t think - ’

‘Oh come now, don’t be shy! It has been an age since we trained together.’

_You are never good enough.  
You will always be a failure._

‘Yes, I know, but - ’

‘Well then, let’s begin!’

Before he could make any further excuses, Thor tossed him one of the practice swords. It was longer than his arm and unwieldy in his hands. He almost dropped the heavy weapon as it overbalanced, and tried not to hear the sniggers from the assembled warriors. 

There was no getting out of this, was there? 

Usually he hid in the library, or the forest, or truth be told anywhere he could think of to escape training with Thor. Once he had thrown himself into it with a will, desperate to attain the level of skill of his peers. Countless years of dedicated practice, and the only thing he had learned was that he couldn’t compare. The strength so prized in their people did not come to him. Nor did the natural instincts of a brute warrior. 

_You are never good enough.  
You will always be a failure._

Of course, he could defend himself. When it became clear he was weak in the fighting arts, Frigga had been sure to develop his innate talents. He was far from helpless. However, that was not what was being tested here. This was beyond his element.

Even so. If he was to be forced into this, then he would fight in his own way.

He carefully laid the huge sword on the ground, meeting Thor’s eyes with defiance. He kept his tone light, but he didn’t take his eyes off his brother. This was not a time for further weakness.

“I know how much you love these ugly blades, brother - but they are just not my style.’

A single breath, and wickedly sharp daggers appeared his outstretched hands. The warriors laughed.

_You are never good enough.  
You will always be a failure._

‘The little Prince has brought cutlery!’ 

It was impossible to tell who had spoken, and so he didn’t bother to look closely at the gathering crowd. All he could feel was cold metal in his hands and shame burning in his heart.

‘Has he brought his weaving as well?’

Thor to his credit now looked uncertain of the new developments. His own greatsword rested toward the ground in a loose grip, deceptively careless.

'I will not fight you when you are armed with only daggers, Loki. It would be dishonourable.’

‘You can, and you _will_.’ The words were spat through clenched teeth as Loki stalked forward. ‘Do not make this any worse than it already is.’

‘I don’t understand. Loki, what is - ’

‘You wanted a fight, Thor.’ He couldn’t help but shake his head in frustration at his brother’s ignorance. ‘So, let us fight!’

He lunged before Thor could formulate a reply. 

It was over quickly.

_You are never good enough.  
You will always be a failure._

He felt his ribs shift and crack under the immense weight as Thor forced him to the ground, an arm like a metal bar across his throat. He bit back a groan and tasted blood as he thought of his next move. Thor had no less than six blades sticking from his body, but they had barely slowed him down. 

‘I ask again, Loki - do you yield?’ 

Thor’s eyes said ‘please’, but Loki knew that despite his feelings for his brother, Thor would keep this up all day if he had to. 

Stubborn warriors and their pride.

He arched his back in a vain attempt to twist away and felt something else give. Another rib? A lung? Thor shifted his weight expertly between his knees to give himself better purchase and ground his forearm deeper into Loki’s neck, just a hair’s breadth shy of asphyxiation.

‘Loki, stop this.’

_You are never good enough.  
You will always be a failure._

Loki spat at him. Blood and quiet fury.

‘I never wanted to start it in the first place. Are you happy now?’

‘It was a good fight, brother.’ Thor replied, looking confused again. He wasn’t the sharpest sword in the armoury, but then with strength like that, he didn’t need to be.

‘Speak for yourself.’ Loki muttered ‘I personally could have done without it.’ 

‘Yield, and we can go to breakfast.’ This Thor said under his breath. Finally, he seemed to be aware of the audience their little _exhibition_ had attracted.

Took him long enough.

‘Get off me, and _then_ we can go to breakfast!’ Loki snapped back.

The pressure wasn’t solely from the pain or shame of his injuries now. Something awful inside him was writhing and growing, ready to lash out at his helplessness. He saw hesitation in Thor’s eyes, and that was all the invitation he needed.

_You are never good enough.  
You will always be a failure._

‘I have had enough of these games!’

Loki bared his teeth, and a blast of raw power launched Thor backwards into a carved pillar, blood streaming from his eyes and nose. The assembled warriors all gasped as Loki pulled himself shakily to his feet, the green and gold energy of his magic slowly fading from the air around him in a shimmering cloud. His own blood left a dark silhouette of a body on the dusty floor. 

He coughed up a final clot from his ruined chest and turned away, limping toward his rooms without looking back. No one followed him. 

A crowd rushed to Thor to help him to his feet but he waved them away, straining to see his brother through the burning star-spots in his eyes.

Thor would often remember Loki’s parting words, spoken quietly, bitterly, for him alone:

‘You win.’


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This is the implied/referenced abuse chapter. There is nothing explicit but please tread carefully and check the other tags if this may make you uncomfortable.

_Your body is a lie.  
Your life is a lie._

He feels it now; just out of reach beneath his skin, a growing chasm straining against the edges of his heart. The walls are coming down.

In all the excitement - The death of Odin (Not his father but his _Father_ ), confronting Hela and falling through a tear in the Bifrost - he hadn’t really had time to ponder the new sensation that now gnawed at him, taunted him - haunted his every breath.

Alone for the first time in days, he straightened the edges of his shirt cuff and tried to squash the impulse to claw at the flesh of his hands.

He could _feel_ it, now. All the time.

Odin was gone, and something had cracked inside him. It _weakened._

_Your body is a lie.  
Your life is a lie._

When would they have told him? If he had never touched the casket, would his first clue have been on Odin’s deathbed? Would he have known what it all _meant?_ Would he have been curious? Frightened? Angry?

He is starting to panic _now,_ of course. He really shouldn’t. There’s no point looking to the past. He needs to deal with this himself. Alone. 

Gritting his teeth, he turns back to the full-length mirror.

He doesn’t recognise his reflection, and it’s not just the new clothes. He sees all the inconsistencies, the parts of him that do not _fit._

Not an illusion or wishful thinking on his part. Not this time.

_Your body is a lie.  
Your life is a lie._

He could break it if he really wanted to. He can feel the power anchored to his body now, the sparks of Odin’s magic pulsing gently as it sustained the lie.

It was the most subtle and impressive piece of sorcery he had ever encountered. For it to be bound to him for a thousand years, and he never even noticed. Who knew Odin had it in him to work with such finesse and deception?

Perhaps he had learned a few of his tricks from the old man after all.

The soft hum of a door opening behind him made him spin around, slamming a painful clamp on his instinct to raise a weapon. The Grandmaster looked faintly amused, as if he could smell the shocks still flickering beneath his skin.

‘Oh hey there handsome. Don’t you clean up nicely?’ The Grandmaster said, eyes flicking up and down in further approval.

_Your body is a lie.  
Your life is a lie._

‘It’s all thanks to you, Grandmaster. You are most generous.’ Loki replied, his charm coming back to him as faint muscle memory. He hadn't the stomach for it.

He was prey once again. He could feel the snare tightening about his neck, soon past the point of no return. There would be no easy escape from the snapping jaws here. He must be careful.

‘Aw, now don’t be like that.' The Grandmaster said, smiling slightly. 'You know how much I wanted to keep you, Snowflake. You don’t have to be modest.’ 

A toy. A tool. To be kept and used for a purpose. A prisoner.

_Your body is a lie.  
Your life is a lie._

The Grandmaster moved closer as he spoke. Languid gestures unable to detract from the threat in his steps.

Loki couldn’t help but back away from the relentless advance, but his legs soon made contact with a table and he was forced to brace himself and focus on remaining as still as possible.

If he moved, it would spring for him with bared teeth.

‘Yes, it’s lovely here Grandmaster.’ He said calmly. ‘In fact, I was wondering - ’

‘You don’t seem yourself, Snowflake. Is something bothering you?’

The Grandmaster’s tone was concerned, but his eyes were crinkled in mirth, barely repressing the laugh at his own joke. Loki was so rattled he almost missed it.

_Snowflake._

He already knows.

_Your body is a lie.  
Your life is a lie._

‘Oh no, not at all Grandmaster. I’m just settling in.’

Part of Loki knows it is already too late. There is blood in the water.

‘You sure now? Because I could have sworn that your pretty skin was coming apart at the seams.’ 

The Grandmaster grinned as he took Loki’s left wrist in a loose grip, turning the hand over delicately as if inspecting a fine fruit. 

‘Such a _fun_ piece of engineering you have in there! I can feel the frost in you now. It _tickles.’_

‘I - I never really thought about it.’ Loki said.

It wasn't exactly a lie.

‘Nonsense! You should show it off. I know I’ll love it.’ The Grandmaster said, eyes cold and calculating.

Iron fingers tightened around Loki's wrist. The icy filaments shooting down his spine were no longer just in his imagination. 

Loki tried to pull away, but against the Grandmaster’s unbelievable strength he squirmed helplessly like a child. His wrist began to burn as the skin rippled and changed beneath that awful embrace.

_Your body is a lie.  
Your life is a lie._

‘No!’ Loki cried out, writhing and turning his face away. 

His eyes were squeezed shut, a desperate attempt from his mind to cancel out what was happening to his traitorous body. He sensed the cold power growing inside his core and couldn’t help a shudder of revulsion, an instinctive magic barrier trying to form to protect himself. 

‘Now Snowflake, it’s not polite to refuse my gifts.’ The Grandmaster said, voice smooth and deadly like poisoned honey.

Another vice-like hand came up and gripped the side of his head, holding him still. His eyes flew open as a fresh agony lanced into his skull. All his careful barriers shattered. He couldn’t reach for his magic, he couldn’t _think._

‘Just a brief moment of pain my dear, and everyone will be able to see how wonderful you really are.’


End file.
